Fate's Surprise, Friendship's Sunrise
by Titanium Gold
Summary: That we know of, Harry never visited the Grangers in canon; but what if he needed that visit after Second Year? What if new information was found that changed the timeline, and what consequences could arise? HHr, AU, WIP, Dumbles/Weasley Bashing
1. Nightmares, Friendships, Reinforcements

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine – the character and series are the property (intellectual or otherwise) of JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing and Warner Brothers. Power Rangers (part of this ficverse, referred to indirectly in this fic via the names of a couple of the characters involved) belongs to Disney, Jetix and Saban. The concept of the Knight Taxi is found in various Harry Potter fanfics around the internet – if anyone knows who started the idea, please let me know so I can give proper credit. The concept of Harry receiving "future memories" is borrowed from a do-over fic by Herman Tumbleweed (I beg of you, V, don't kill me!), while Ben Johnson (referred to in this chapter, to appear in a future one) is my own character.

A/N: Okay, so my timeline was a little off with this fic's posting…

Anyway, this story – which before anyone says anything, is AU – was inspired by the start of another fic called "Fate's Gambit" (ID 5210983), written by the FFN author Robst. Check it out, but please (if you wish) give this fic a read first. Also note that you're riding on the HMS Pumpkin Pie (H/Hr pairing); if you don't like this ship, please find another. Furthermore, just as in my other HP fic, "A Trio Shattered..." the timeline's 10 years ahead of canon to take advantage of tech not readily available in the 90s. (That and even at 20 years old, I can hardly remember what was and wasn't available in the 90s anyway.) Thus, this fic is set around summer 2003, just after second year… for now.

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_**Fate's Surprise, Friendship's Sunrise**_

_**By**_

_**Titanium Gold**_

_**Prologue: Nightmares, Reinforcements, Friendships**_

"_Fate has a way of circling back on a man, and taking him by surprise.__" – Edward Bloom, "Big Fish"_

"_Friendship is a cadence of divine melody melting through the heart.__" – Charles Mildway, "__Dictionary of Burning Words of Brilliant Writers: P. 255__"_

"_Loving each other is half of wisdom." – Imam Ali_

_

* * *

_

_(August 6__th__, 2003, 1130 PM, Granger Residence, Crawley)_

"_**HARRY!" **_

As 30-year-old Eric Granger nee Myers heard the scream from his daughter, Hermione, he sprinted upstairs to her room and held back a grimace – the only thing that could ever make her or anyone cry that loud was a _bad_ nightmare. The Granger patriarch, from whom Hermione herself got her dark eyes and curly hair, had been up late examining the contents of a recently received package from Wesley Collins, a close friend who he'd met while in California years prior, when Hermione screamed the name of her own best friend. A scream that was nearly masked under a loud clap of thunder, save for the ex-soldier's excellent hearing even after five years of military service.

_I hope this isn't a bad sign,_ Eric mused as he skidded to a stop in front of Hermione's room. _The last time Hermione cried out someone's name in her sleep, her grandmother nearly died._

As he hugged his daughter, who at this point was lucid and sobbing into his shirt, Eric failed to realize that the boy whose name Hermione had called (one Harry Potter, who the Grangers had seen when picking Hermione up from King's Cross) had just been sealed in his room that very day. Eric also failed to realize that Harry had – only minutes prior to Hermione's own awakening – awakened from his own set of _extremely_ vivid dreams, and somehow escaped 'Privet Prison' with his trunk and broomstick in tow, having freed Hedwig in the process.

Most relevantly, Eric Granger nee Myers didn't know that both Harry and Hedwig were headed to his location.

* * *

_(August 6__th__, 2003, 1145 PM, Magnolia Road, Little Whinging, Surrey)_

Harry himself, meanwhile, was stumbling forward through the rain, away from Privet Drive and Little Whinging altogether, his trunk and broomstick shrunken and pocketed thanks to built-in charms he'd found between his first year and the end of second year six weeks prior. Unfortunately, because of the lack of food and the abundance of beatings he'd had since returning to Privet Drive – more of Vernon's handiwork, though thankfully with Aunt Marge's arrival that morning the old bully hadn't been given the chance to do more damage – the emerald-eyed 13-year-old was in terrible pain from hunger, fatigue and injuries, as well as cold from the rain. Instinct and magic alike, however, agreed in his case; Harry _had_ to find Hermione in order for things to get better then they were, and he needed things to get better then they were in order to live. Unknown to him, Fate had also agreed, assisting him in the escape by channeling his magic to wandlessly unlock any doors in his path, and apparently giving him a second set of memories through the _very_ realistic dreams he'd had over the last six weeks - not that Harry had had time to sort through all the new information.

The child dubbed 'Boy-Who-Lived' by the wizarding public ground his teeth as his ribs loudly protested movement for the seemingly millionth time.

_**Anything **__would be better then Bully One and Bully Two._ Harry mused tiredly. _But... I don't know; it feels almost like Hermione's calling to me, or at least signaling... but how can that be? She and I, we've hardly known one another two years... yet going on those dreams, it's almost like we've known one another forever..._

Deciding to let instinct lead the way as he'd always done since his arrival into the magical world, Harry stuck out his left hand, smiling wryly (though it came out more like a grimace) as a reasonably modern-looking taxi appeared, stopping in front of him.

"Granger Residence, please." Harry grunted at the driver, gingerly sitting in the rear-right passenger seat. As the taxi started moving, the Boy-Who-Lived started blinking away spots in his vision...

* * *

_(August 7__th__ 2003, Midnight, Granger Residence, Crawley)_

After letting Hermione calm down a little, Eric smiled as Miranda Granger pulled their genius daughter into a tight hug.

"Easy, Little One, easy," Miranda soothed. "You're safe. You're home and safe, Hermione."

"I may be," Hermione sniffed, "b-but Harry isn't safe. His uncle, he... he... oh, Harry!"

As Hermione broke down into another crying jag, the Granger adults shared a look – something was wrong with their daughter's best friend and for that reason alone, to say nothing about the little Hermione had revealed about Harry's home life, they had to help.

"Miranda, can you and Hermione handle yourselves for a bit?" Eric asked.

"Of course, Eric," Miranda replied softly, "but what will you be doing?"

"Calling in a little help from the Collins family," Eric replied, standing up and stretching, looking to the two ladies like a tiger ready to pounce, "so that combined with our own resources, Harry doesn't ever have to return to his relatives again."

"How can Uncle Wes and Great Uncle Alexander help?" Hermione sniffed, wiping away her tears in frustration. "They're across the pond from us! Even if they **were **here, according to some of the more obscure reading I've done, Dumbledore put Harry with the Dursleys using his role as head of the Wizengamot! That can't be challenged!"

"The Headmaster may be the head of the Wizengamot, Hermione; he may even be the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, as your books over the last couple years have said," Eric smiled at Hermione, "but that doesn't make him right. It also doesn't mean he can't be challenged, even in this matter; Wes and his dad can help us a great deal with that, and there's also Uncle Ben. _No one_ is above the law, Hermione – and anyone who thinks they are, even Albus Dumbledore and _especially_ to the point of hurting you, is going to meet the business end of my Silver Guardian blaster."

"How much political clout does Bio-Lab carry in the magical world, though?" Miranda asked.

"None yet – but Wes knows about magic, and so does his dad; something to do with a weapon called the Battle Fire that Wes found during one of my trips back here. They'll **find** a way to help us, and as for helping Harry himself, Bio-Lab has some of the best lawyers in the _world_, both magical and mundane." Eric grimaced, "If the Collins family can't help with all those resources, then we're so screwed it's not even funny."

"This entire _situation_ isn't funny, Daddy." Hermione retorted tiredly. Eric sighed as Miranda nodded in agreement.

"I know, Hermione... I know."

Seconds later, another bolt of lightning streaked the night sky. Right before the light vanished, Eric could have sworn he saw a black-haired young boy limping up their front walk. Soft gasps of surprise from the two lovely ladies next to him confirmed that they'd seen the same thing.

"Was that-!?"

"Harry," Hermione replied softly. "That was Harry!"

"Hermione, let's go – we've got to get him inside; magical or not, this storm's likely going to make him hypothermic as it is," Eric ordered.

"I'll get the guest room ready," Miranda added, pulling back from Hermione. As the young, messy-haired witch dried her tears and followed her father, Miranda headed down the corridor to another room decorated in red and gold, setting up the bed for Hermione's wayward best friend...

* * *

_(August 7__th__, 2003, 0700 AM, Granger Residence, Crawley)_

_Ugh... what hit me?_ Harry grimaced as he slowly regained consciousness.

_Wait a second... I remember now. Vernon and Dudley beat the slag out of me, I left Privet Drive and Little Whinging after the Barge arrived and they all went to bed... summoned a 'Knight Taxi', I think it was called... but where am I now? And what time is it?_

"Harry?" Hermione breathed as the last Potter's eyes opened slowly. "Harry, it's me, Hermione – you're at my house; Dad and I found you on the front walk."

"So I did make it..." Harry croaked, biting back a grimace as his ribs flared in protest.

"It was touch and go for a minute there, Harry," Hermione scowled. "You were dangerously close to hypothermia, and Dad had to tape up your ribs. What were you _thinking_, traveling all this way with _broken ribs, of all things!? _That fat tub of lard you call an uncle nearly killed you!"

"There's your answer, Hermione," Harry grimaced. "I wanted to get out before he _did_ kill me... wait, how'd you know about that?"

"She had a _very_ vivid dream, son." Harry looked up in shock as a tall man who could only be Hermione's father stepped into the room. "A vivid dream about you being harmed at the hands of one Mr. Vernon Dursley... but it _wasn't_ just a dream, was it?"

"Harry," Hermione interrupted, "this is my father, Eric Granger."

"It's good to meet you, sir," Harry replied, "but... w-what do you mean?" Harry stuttered. "When did she have this dream?"

"Eleven-thirty last night," Eric smiled grimly as Harry winced. "Haven't heard a scream like what she belted out since my days in the military, Harry, and I was the one screaming at the time. What happened to you?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Harry grimaced, both at the flare of pain from his ribs and the Death Glare™ coming his way from Hermione, and looked away from his best friend and her father.

"You were abused, weren't you? Long-term?" Eric asked after a lengthy moment of silence; Harry's complexion going sheet-white as he shot a look of horror Eric's way was all the answer the older man needed.

"DAD!" Hermione gaped in shock. "Why would you ask something like that!?"

"Because all the signs are there, Hermione," Eric sighed; Harry echoed the action as the Granger patriarch continued. "Your clothing is in tatters, Harry, your chest and back are covered in scars – and I doubt many of those are from your school adventures. Your ribs and other latest injuries are only just healing, thanks to a visit from that healer of yours, Madame Pomfrey. But you came here from Surrey with all of that damage and more – if all of that doesn't scream 'abuse victim', I don't know what does."

"Why me, though?" Harry murmured, the abused child coming to the forefront. "What do you want from me; why do you want to help a freak like _me_?"

"Because you're my best friend, Harry," Hermione replied. "And you're _not_ a freak. That... _title_," the brunette witch spat, "belongs to your relatives."

"You've earned Hermione's trust, Harry," Eric replied, "and by association, Miranda's and mine. All we want from you is your help, so we can get you out of that thrice-damned _Pit_ your Headmaster calls a house."

"I understand... I think," Harry nodded, blinking back tears. "Thank you, sir... I..."

"It's okay, Harry... it's okay," Hermione breathed, gently embracing the emerald-eyed teen as the emotional dam within him cracked just that much more.

"Just let go, Harry. You're safe – I promise, no one's going to hurt you here."

And ensnared in the arms of his best friend, Harry James Potter did just that. Neither of them, however, would know that the last eight to ten hours would have far-reaching consequences....

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A/N: Hope ya enjoyed, folks! Read and review as you see fit – Chapter 1's on the way... hopefully soon.


	2. Healing, Arrivals, Fire, Friendship

A/N: Almost two months, 37 reviews, 2000 hits, 200 favorites and alerts, and 18 C2 bookmarks later, I am floored. Honestly, after "A Trio..." getting away from me and the resulting flames there, I am shocked.

To all of you who have done (or will do) any of those (except the flames), thank you so much. To Minerdude (who has apparently disabled PMs for some bizarre reason), your review is noted; however, there is a reason for Eric's age at Hermione's birth being what it is, and that reason shall make itself known in time. To those who _have_ disabled PMs or don't have a FFN account, please leave your email address so I can reply to your reviews.

To everyone else who reviewed, I should have sent replies if possible; to those who asked and/or expressed concern, there won't be any of the stuff that causes people to slam Power Rangers; not in this fic. No spandex, 'morphing' or anything associated with it. There will be references and direct flashbacks to those days, but nothing else here. Only references will appear for awhile – unless you count the Battle Fire, a Power Rangers 'original', which will be discussed this chapter. Note that this chapter is unbeta'd at present.

Disclaimer: ...Okay, last I checked – and this is the last time I say this – I'm a 20-year-old Canadian man, _not_ a 40-something-year-old woman from England. Ergo, I ain't J.K. Rowling and don't own Harry Potter. I also don't own Power Rangers Time Force, Power Rangers itself, or the associated characters Wesley Collins and Eric Myers; that set of ownership honors belongs to Saban. The Knight Taxi from the prologue belongs to Tumshie, or so I'm told – the concept is in his fic, "Independence Day". Apparently it can also be found in the fanfics of the FFN author kerichi. This fanfic, despite appearances, was inspired by "Fate's Gambit", by Robst – have a look at that fic if this one doesn't satisfy you.

Anyway, I'm just playing in the sandboxes, seeing what happens – the toys will be put back when I'm done.

With the legalese out of the way, let's continue the run. Note that the bold-italic font near the end is an original character speaking – you'll know who at that point.

* * *

_**Fate's Surprise, Friendship's Sunrise**_

_**By**_

_**Titanium Gold**_

_**Chapter 1: Healing, Arrivals, Fire, Friendship**_

"_When something's wrong, the only way to make it right is to talk about it." – Cornelius Fillmore, Disney's "Fillmore!"_

"_If one loves, one need not have an ideology of love.__" – Bruce Lee_

"_Time is the fire in which we burn." – Delmore Schwartz_

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_**

_(August 7__th__, 2003, 0730 AM, Granger Residence, Crawley)_

"You feel better, Harry?" Eric asked, handing Harry a handkerchief as he regained some control over his emotions.

"Yes, sir... thank you," the raven-haired teen sniffed, blowing his nose into the handkerchief as Eric expressed an apology over scaring Harry to such a great degree.

"It's all right, sir," Harry added, swallowing the lump in his throat, "I think I needed that."

"How long, Harry?" Hermione interjected, "How long have you been holding that back?"

"Too long, I bet," Eric grumbled. Harry nodded sheepishly, having heard the grumbled estimate.

"The Dursleys... the one time I gave in and objected to their treatment, it only got worse," the teen admitted, "I guess I've held that back ever since then." Feral growls sounded from the backs of the Grangers' throats at the latter admission.

"Look, Harry," Hermione sighed, "We're not mad – not at you. But know that you'll never have to do that again; don't ever hold _anything_ back with me or my family." Ensnaring Harry in what he had affectionately dubbed a HermiHug™ two months prior, Hermione added, "You can _always_ be honest with us, I promise."

"Thank you, Hermione..." Harry murmured, his own arms going around the pretty young witch in front of him; amidst the realization of how soft and warm she felt in that moment compared to the hug they'd shared at the Leaving Feast, Harry felt two things – relief that neither Hermione nor her father had run after his admissions (ignoring the fact he'd technically been scared into them)... and most of all, the last Potter felt contentment.

Harry Potter was with his best friend and her family, finally healing from over ten years of abuse in Durzkaban. And he could think of nowhere else he'd have rather been.

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_**

_(International airspace, mid-flight, August 7__th__, 2003, 1230 PM London Time)_

"I wonder why Eric called us yesterday, Dad."

"It had to have been important, son; don't worry, we'll be at Heathrow in an hour."

The question came from a fair-haired young man in his late 20s dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a red button-down shirt over a sleeveless white tee. The man in question was Wesley "Wes" Collins, Hermione's surrogate uncle and the newest leader of the Silver Guardians, the citywide defense force for Hermione's father's hometown of Silver Hills. Seated next to Wes was his father and employer, Alexander Collins; a shorter grey-haired, stocky, middle-aged man dressed in a dark blue suit with no tie. The resemblance between the two men was unmistakable. Same jaw, same eyes, relatively similar stances and hair colors – or at least their hair had been the same color at one point. The clothing Alexander wore even covered muscle similar to Wes' – it was clear even then that the two men were father and son. Having commissioned a private jet, the two of them were taking a trip to England; specifically to Crawley, the home of their friend and former co-worker, Eric Myers.

_No... He's not Myers, not anymore; Eric's last name, it's Granger now. _Wes smiled, fond memories of his surrogate niece, his best friend's daughter, coming to the forefront. Their first meeting when Hermione was four; training her in martial arts from when she was five; the two of them reading various large volumes of fiction and non-fiction when she was six, with _Lord of the Rings_ and _Chronicles of Narnia_ holding a particularly special place in Hermione's heart. There were others, all equally prevalent, but those first three memories were the most important in the mind of the current Red Battle Warrior, given he wasn't in England when Hermione and Eric were told about magic; Eric and Hermione only told him after the fact, once much research was done to ensure that the Statute of Secrecy wouldn't be broken.

_Not like I'd tell anyone beside other Rangers, anyway; Dad already knew about magic somehow, and none of us would tell the general populace, because – Rangers or no – we'd end up in the psych ward._ Wes mused.

_Eric said something about Hermione's friend, Harry; how he'd shown up at their house from pretty much the other side of London, looking like he'd taken a few too many hits from the wrong end of somebody's fists. While it is something too damn sick to comprehend, if Harry's guardians did abuse him... could that be why Eric called Dad _and_ me; to get legal help from Bio-Lab? I hope so; because from what Hermione's mentioned about Harry before, he's as much of a hero as any Ranger – and he hasn't even been to California before!_

"Wes?"

"Yeah, Dad?" Wes jumped, surprised off his current train of thought by his father's voice; a soft, gravelly baritone.

"You okay? Your fist is shaking." Looking up at his father, Wes saw concern in his expression, and then looked down at his own right hand – which was clenched tightly, glowing, and faintly shaking; it appeared that the Battle Fire, a magical armor source that Wes had found just over two years prior, was in that hand and itching to be released.

"Wha-? Oh... sorry." _Odd – I've never accessed the Battle Fire without my Ranger powers before..._

"Don't worry, son," Alexander smiled as Wes unclenched his fist, the Battle Fire vanishing, "No harm done. Just save your anger until we meet Eric and Hermione; I'm sure Eric's still got a punching bag you can use."

"Eric always does, Dad; you know he'll never give up martial arts." Wes grinned. Shelving his anger at the situation of his niece's best friend, Wes sat back and relaxed, his father falling asleep shortly after.

Neither man knew that Wes' shaking fist actually _did_ have to do with the Battle Fire... and its impending return to its former homeland.

* * *

_(Granger Residence, Crawley, August 7__th__ 2003, 1230 PM)_

"Huh... this feels nice," Harry mused, standing in the Grangers' former guestroom – now Harry's room ("Consider our home your home," Miranda had said, to many more tears from Harry) – wearing one of many recently acquired sets of clothing; a pair of tough black boots that Hermione had gifted to him, dark blue jeans and a red tee striped with yellow, both having been bought from nearby clothing boutiques (as part of a whole new wardrobe) with help from Hermione's mother, "Were the boots your dad's, Hermione? These feel almost like... I don't know, maybe dragonhide or something."

"No, Harry, they weren't Dad's, and it's not dragonhide – just _very_ tough leather. Dad's military gear, at least what he got to keep, is all in storage, and mom, for all her gymnastic skill, doesn't own combat boots." Hermione smiled wryly at Harry's antics, holding back laughter as he carefully jumped around in an effort to get used to properly fitting clothes, "Uncle Wes gifted Eric with a bunch of clothing years ago, when they found out mum was pregnant. It was before they found out they were bringing a daughter into the world; they hoped for a son before that. But they got me – and I've had no use for combat boots."

"Odd, that; I can totally picture a nine-year-old you dropping a heavy book on your foot; boots like these would have been great for reducing the pain," Harry grinned, dodging Hermione's half-hearted swat.

"Prat," the brunette grinned wryly, before her amused expression vanished, "Harry, about last night; that dream that I had..."

"Don't worry about it, Hermione; if that hadn't happened, your front porch might have been my grave," Harry smiled weakly, "Besides, I had an odd dream too... seemed like future memories, really. Before I came here I wrote it all down, stored the notebook in my trunk."

"'Future Memories', you called them?" Hermione raised an eyebrow, "Odd... I had a dream a few nights ago that felt the same way. Voldemort had come back after something called the Triwizard Tournament just over a year from now, a tournament Dumbledore forced you to participate in; both of us were hurt badly over the next three years after, a lot of people killed in the time after Hogwarts..."

"Riddle and Dumbledore's actions nearly destroyed the UK, Hermione, and we were the only ones left with enough strength to even try to stop Riddle in the end." Harry replied, "It didn't help that we kept getting slipped Amortentia in that timeline – and by the _Weasleys_ of all people!"

"So our future selves somehow sent their memories back to us... I wonder what the effects on our time will be." Hermione mused.

"I know one thing," Harry grimaced, "Dumbledore can't be trusted, and neither can the Weasleys – not anymore. I don't know about your memories, future or not, but in mine the Headmaster's just pulling strings, and Ron, with full blessing from his family, betrays us – twice; three times if you include that Scabbers mess. The Triwizard Tournament's ICW-sponsored, right?"

"Anything to do with other countries is ICW-sponsored, Harry – that's why it's an _International_ Confederation of Wizards," Hermione replied, "Wait... Dumbledore's the Supreme Mugwump... oh, that _bastard!_ In the other timeline, he could've called off the whole thing! And he could have demanded a trial for Sirius Black – either to begin with or when it was made clear that Pettigrew was the actual traitor!"

"But he didn't. He didn't even try to muster up any backup from the rest of the world when Riddle _really_ began attacking; he just let the guy run right over us, eventually cut us off from _any_ help," Harry sighed, "He put the world in the hands of a single teenager... me; and didn't even train me properly – all because of a bloody prophecy."

"It won't happen that way again, Harry," Hermione snarled, "I won't let it, and neither will my family."

"Me neither," Harry replied semi-seriously, amusement warring with courage in his eyes, "I doubt your dad would take too kindly to me dying – which is nothing compared to what you and your mom would do- OOF!"

Hermione had tackled Harry in a hug so strong, so powerful, that the two slammed into the wall behind Harry. The not-so-dense Boy-Who-Lived reined in his shock, automatically hugging Hermione in return as he felt her shaking.

"Hermione, what-!?"

"Harry, don't you get it? _I'm not letting you die – not in this lifetime!_ It's only been two years, but you're the most important person in my life – I fear I need you in order to _live_!" Hermione sobbed, "Dumbledore's manipulated all of us two years too many – I won't let him do it any longer!"

"None of us will, Harry."

Both young teens looked towards Eric Granger in shock, having failed to notice him coming their way. Hermione's eyes widened at the realization he'd heard an unknown bit of their conversation, and the girl genius experienced further surprise at her father's clothing; a dark blue, military-style uniform and a red beret.

For even two years after she'd last seen her father go into battle, Hermione Granger still recognized the uniform of a Silver Guardian.

* * *

_(Granger Residence, Crawley, August 7__th__ 2003, 1300 hours/1 PM)_

"Is Uncle Wes dropping by? Are you going on another mission, Dad? Where's mum?"

"Yes, Hermione, Wes is showing up; he'll be here in a couple hours with his dad to help with Harry's situation. No, I am not going on another mission; your mom nearly tore me to shreds after the last one in spite of it being an emergency," Eric cringed, "She's covering the surgery for the morning and then picking up Wes and Alexander from Heathrow. This," Eric tapped the beret, "is just so I can greet Alexander properly."

"What do you mean 'greet him properly'?" Harry asked.

"Alexander Collins was my old employer, Harry, at a company called Bio-Lab; he ended up being a father figure for me near the end – and still is, actually. I was a ward of California for most of my life, so with my parents unknown Alexander is Hermione's paternal grandfather of sorts," Eric grinned, "I was the commander of a security corps for Bio-Lab and its clients – which basically amounted to all of Silver Hills, Bio-Lab's hometown – while you two were at Hogwarts. The corps was called the Silver Guardians." The older man added, smiling at the emerald-eyed teen.

"I always wondered how Hermione was so strong," Harry smiled back, "She got it from you? I mean, you move like... I don't know, like a fighter, a soldier."

"I'd like to think you're right, Harry; that she has my strength, her mother's beauty and grace, and both of our minds," Eric answered carefully, noting the blushing teenage girl next to Harry that was his daughter, "She has a mean hit, too – I'm surprised that Malfoy character at your school hasn't felt it yet," Hermione rolled her eyes in amusement as her father's lips twitched, "I get the soldier comment a lot, though; two years as a Marine and two as a Guardian will do that. Anyway, Wes and I were going to start some heavier training with Hermione once we're all together and your situation is resolved; you want to join in?"

A smile graced Hermione's lips at the confused look on Harry's face.

"Dad means martial arts training, Harry – he's really quite good at it, and so is Uncle Wes; they're both black-belts and they've made their own fighting styles," Hermione grinned, "They're even better teachers; if we could take their teaching skill and give it to Snape or some other adults, then Hogwarts would be set for life in terms of the Defense and Potions classes."

"You're really that good, si- um, Eric?" Harry smiled faintly both at Eric's mock-glare and the thought of knowing some nonmagical defense of his own; the 'future memories' revealed a time when Dudley Dursley had taken up boxing, and whether or not Harry ended up going back to Privet Drive, he wanted to be ready to fight in a similar fashion.

"Not to blow my own horn, but yes – I am. Sixth-degree black belt; Wes is a fourth-degree," Eric grinned, "With a little training, Harry, you'll be caught up to Hermione's level in no time, and when Wes and I are completely done you two'll be able to defend yourselves with or without magic. The training won't be easy, though; Hermione can tell you I'm a drill sergeant when I want to be, and if you use this training for _anything_ besides self-defense then you'll be in very serious trouble."

"Sir, compared to dealing with 10 years and two summers of the Dursleys, your training will be a lot easier; maybe even a little fun. And who would I use this training against – Cousin Dudley? Forget that... if all goes well I won't be going back to Privet Drive again anyway," Harry chuckled, cringing as his ribs mildly protested at the movement. The pain didn't escape the eye of Hermione's father.

"Not yet, Harry; I never said we'd start immediately." Eric replied, "We need to get you out of Pit Drive – yes, I said _Pit_ Drive, because that place is _clearly_ a nightmare – once and for all, and you need to finish healing. That healer of yours, Pomfrey, told us that until your ribs _stop flaring_ – probably until you go to school – you're to go easy on the heavy-duty stuff. No heavy lifting and no martial arts training, which probably means we won't start until Christmas." Eric smirked wryly at Harry's stubbornness, "Take it from someone who knows, Harry; busted ribs _suck_, especially recently healed ones. It doesn't matter if you're magical or not."

"You know from experience?" Harry grimaced; if what he felt when he arrived at the Grangers was anything like 'regular' busted ribs, it _had _to suck.

"Yeah... my last mission as commander of the Guardians landed me with broken ribs, bruises, a punctured lung and a lot of general damage... Wes can give you the full details, but between the damage and the exertion afterwards I nearly died. It's a bloody miracle that I can even do martial arts anymore, never mind dentistry – the latter being more of a hobby then anything." Eric smiled stiffly, "It's why I'm here now, and always will be – I missed two years of Hermione's lives, of _both_ your lives, and risked missing all of it. Bar something globally apocalyptic that's not going to happen again."

"I told them everything, Harry – the current situation in the Magical World, everything that's happened over the last two years at Hogwarts, and all the information we learned about Voldemort. I even told them about the 'future memories.'" Hermione interjected.

"Y-you did?" Harry stuttered, paling.

"She did, Harry," Eric smiled faintly, causing the blood to slowly return to Harry's face as he relaxed, "And while Miranda and I are both concerned, we believe all of it. Hermione wouldn't lie to us; she never has. And we won't pull either of you away from magic and hide in the 'muggle' world – hiding's not our way. Everyone makes their own destiny... even you two. Besides, I've got to admit; an eleven-year-old jumping on the back of a troll to save my daughter made for a very riveting tale, as did last year's events. Since the troll in October 2001, Hermione's demonstrated her loyalty to you and I'm sure she'll continue to do so – though I'm concerned about this Ron Weasley fellow; he sounds like a real fair-weather friend – a jerk. It's a lot like how I treated Wes at one point."

Hermione winced, explaining to Harry that when her father and Uncle Wes originally met, Eric had given Wes the cold shoulder a thousand fold at first – and again until about two years prior. Harry pulled a face at the realization that in the alternate future Ron had done so twice. The realization that Ron could be like that was sobering to both teens.

"If you two weren't best friends I'd swear your world was part of one of those love stories I used to read Alice," Eric grinned wickedly, "You probably visited Hermione every day when she was petrified, didn't you?"

"Er... well, yeah..." Harry gulped, his face flushing red; looking out of the corner of his eye, the last Potter noticed Hermione's face had darkened also.

"Ah, cut out the embarrassment, Harry," Eric's grin widened, "You're a good kid; I'm glad Hermione has the support and protection of a fine one like you. If it was me and Miranda, and she was stuck in hospital for two months I'd have done the same. There's nothing to be embarrassed about, you two – nothing at all."

Hermione, a light blush still staining her cheeks, looked to Harry and nodded; they both relaxed as a result, though Harry's own blush took longer to fade.

"Anyway, how about I cook us some lunch and we can talk more? Grilled cheese sandwiches sound good?"

"Of course, dad – thank you," Hermione smiled.

"I've never had grilled cheese sandwiches before," Harry replied, "Only ever cooked them. Are they good?"

"You'll love them, Harry, _especially_ my recipe," Eric smiled, "I'll put some together for the others too – they'll likely be hungry for _real_ food when they arrive."

"I'll help," Harry offered, ignoring the objections of Hermione and her father as the three headed towards the kitchen.

* * *

_(Heathrow Int'l Airport, London, August 7__th__ 2003, 1330 hours {1:30 PM})_

Wes smiled as he and his father munched on a bagel each; the last of their post-flight lunch at a food court in the airport, where the Collins men were waiting for Miranda Granger to pick them up. Their luggage – two decent-sized suitcases and a duffle bag – sat next to them, having gotten through Customs without incident.

"Dad, you haven't been surprised at all, by _any_ of this, since I told you about it – why is that?" Wes asked.

"I'll tell you when we get to Eric's – we're too exposed here, and Hermione deserves to know this too," Alexander muttered. Wes, reining in his shock with a great deal of effort, could only nod as Miranda came towards them with a broad smile.

"Wes, Alexander!"

"Miranda; it's great to see you!" Wes grinned, pulling Eric's wife into a quick hug before letting her go, so Alexander could do the same.

"You two look like you haven't aged a day," Miranda smiled, brown eyes twinkling in amusement, "What do you say we get out of here? Hermione and Eric have been waiting for your visit all week!"

_It sounds like they aren't the only ones, Miranda._ Wes' lips twitched as the group headed towards the parking sector; ever since he and Eric had met Miranda at Billingsley Prep School (1) all those years ago, Wes had known that the latest Granger matriarch, dark-haired, brown-eyed and cute, was the most passionate woman the two men would ever meet. It was a surprise when, after the final fight to defend Silver Hills, Eric had revealed he was married to her.

_He even wore the damn ring._ Wes laughed inwardly at the memory. _A wedding band on the hand of the Silver Guardians commander, while the commander's neck-deep in Silver Hills' taste of hell on Earth – I'm no soldier, but I gotta admit that that's loyalty. If Jen were here..._

Shaking off the memories at that point, Wes focused on the situation at present – which currently consisted of the group riding in what Wes then recognized as a regular, black 90s-era Nissan Pathfinder, Eric's vehicle.

"Eric busy with the surgery?" Wes asked.

"No; we both took the day off," Miranda smiled faintly, "Not every day that _both_ of you come down here; if not for the reason behind it, we'd both be singing praises."

"Yes, Eric told us about Harry," Alexander sighed, "I swear to you, Miranda, any help Bio-Lab can supply is all at the disposal of Harry and your family."

"Thank you, Alex," Miranda smiled, "I have a feeling we'll need it – Hermione's told us about Dumbledore and his power base; if he put Harry with those monsters we'll need all the help we can get."

"It's no problem, Miranda," Alexander smiled stiffly, Wes throwing a supportive grin at his surrogate sister-in-law as the older man continued, "I've heard Albus Dumbledore's name before; Bio-Lab has had dealings with him in the past."

Wes' grin dropped like a stone – _Bio-Lab_ had dealt with the wizarding world!?

"Dad, what are you talking about? Since when does Bio-Lab deal with the magical world? _Time Force_ doesn't even do that, far as I know!"

"Albus Dumbledore," Alexander spat, contempt oozing from his voice as he spoke the Hogwarts Headmaster's name, "Has fingers in a lot of pies, you two. In my dealings with the Department of Defense and the United Nations during setup of the Silver Guardians two years ago, I learned of the magical world – a presence I suspected since my own father trained me to run Bio-Lab – and I learned that Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts Headmaster, Chief Warlock of the only remaining Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, is _always there _in presence or reputation. I even met him once, and make no mistake – he's manipulative to the nth degree, an evil wolf in sheep's clothing; he tried to stop me from even _starting_ the Guardians. If not for the ICW itself, I'd have had my memories modified. In spite of that incident, I learned that the average magical in Britain and even some other countries worship the man like a god even though he's over twice my age and as infallible as anyone. I was also told by my contacts in the Department that a child had brought a civil war here in Britain to an end thirteen years ago – though they refused to name the child or the war's instigators – and that Dumbledore was responsible for placing that child in hell, for reasons known to no one but himself."

"And you think that child was Harry?" Miranda asked.

"I don't know for sure... but yes, I believe he is. We'll know for sure when we talk to the kids," Alexander grimaced, "Though from the stories I've heard, it wouldn't surprise me if Harry just wants to forget the Dursleys."

"We're lucky Dumbledore hasn't found out about Time Force, aren't we?" Wes murmured.

"More then you know, Wes... If he had, one of two things would happen – either he'd ignore the technology like a lot of 'purebloods' do or we'd all be erased from existence, on the grounds of interfering with the 'Greater Good.'" Alexander's jaw clenched, "That old bastard does _everything_ for his 'Greater Good', but it's _wrong_ – his 'Greater Good' put Harry through hell and let Hermione nearly get killed by a basilisk; he's manipulated the closest I'll ever have to a granddaughter – grandchildren, if you include Harry – for too long. If I had known sooner that Dumbledore was manipulating _teenagers,_ I'd have thrown the entire weight of Bio-Lab at him myself!"

"At least we found out, Dad," Wes said in an effort to console his father, "We can help Harry and stop Dumbledore."

"If it's the last thing we do." Miranda agreed.

As the three adults continued the drive to Crawley, they knew stopping Dumbledore would either be the most important thing they did... or the last.

* * *

_(Granger Residence, Crawley, 1500 hours, August 7__th__ 2003)_

"You didn't have to cook the _whole lunch_, Harry; Dad can cook without poisoning us, you know," Hermione grumbled good-naturedly; the Collins men and her mother had just arrived five minutes prior; her father had given the Collins a brief tour of the house and stored their luggage in two of the three guest rooms before the four adults moved to the back porch to catch up, taking half of the grilled cheese sandwiches and a bottle of brandy with them.

"I want to help, Hermione; I want to show my appreciation to you and your family," Harry retorted, "Besides, I like cooking – it's the one chore I had at Privet Drive where the Dursleys left me alone."

"Oh," Hermione grimaced, properly chastised as embarrassment at her bizarre lack of common sense at that moment mixed with rage at Harry's former home life. The two teenagers sat in silence, eating their sandwiches and musing on the situation.

"You think your dad's plan will work?" Harry asked, "Getting me out of Privet Drive, I mean."

"Dad said he'd try everything legally possible and then some to get you away from the Dursleys, Harry... we've got to hope it'll work out." Hermione sighed, "My parents, Uncle Wes, Grandpa Alexander, they know about that possible future. They won't let that disaster of a timeline repeat itself, and neither will I."

"I know, Hermione... thank you. I hope I can repay you for this someday," Harry replied, ensnaring the girl genius in a hug after a moment's hesitation.

_Just keep being my friend, Harry,_ Hermione mused as her arms automatically went around her best friend in turn. _And that'll be all the repayment I need._

_**Except for marrying him; you'd love that, wouldn't you? **_A voice in Hermione's mind retorted.

_Shut up, subconscious – this is no time for that._

Hermione didn't realize that Harry's own subconscious just went through a similar epiphany.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the Grangers' backyard, the adults were talking shop – at least the Grangers and Alexander were talking, anyway. Wes was tense with apprehension, as the other three adults discussed possible actions that could be taken against Dumbledore.

_There's that feeling again... almost like coming home to disaster. What gives? Did the Battle Fire come from England; is that why I'm feeling so relieved and agitated all at once?_

_**Yes... I did come from this land, Wes, many millennia ago.**_ A voice, calm and soft, replied in Wes' mind; it was obviously female based on the 'sound', and it took every shred of will that Wes had to keep his jaw from going slack before he muttered something about needing to rest and headed to the guest room.

_Who are you?_

_**I am the Battle Fire; or at least the part of it that has gained sentience once again. I believe nonmagicals in this time period would call me an Artificial Intelligence – and before you ask, Wes, I got that bit of information from your mind. We **_**are **_**bonded, after all, and have been for over two years.**_

_True,_ Wes admitted, smiling as the voice of the Battle Fire grew in strength. _You came from England?_

_**Many millennia ago, as I said; I was forged during a phoenix's burning day in the era of Merlin, long before the Hogwarts Founders were even a blip on the radar, to help Uther Pendragon, known as King Arthur, battle evil. **_

_He was real!?_

_**King Arthur was as real as you and I, Wes. **_The 'AI' replied._** My secondary mission since my birth has been to grow in strength with each battle, and seek and support the pure-hearted. Upon the King's death, to prevent myself being captured by evil, I travelled for many years through subspace, roaming the areas now known as England, Ireland and Scotland, searching for another pure-hearted warrior to fight beside. I only ever found two **_**truly**_** pure-hearted fighters between King Arthur and you – the first was a warrior named Draganta **_(2) _**who I met in the Mountains of Gloom during the Founders' reign; though I found him a little late in his battles it seems. The power I gave him, the Battle Fury, went inactive only a month later. Soon after Draganta's fight was done I found the second pure warrior since King Arthur, the white knight whose form I temporarily took when you and I met. Though it was a brief bonding – I never found out the knight's true name – it was he who gifted me with a home; the storage unit you found me in. Before that, I just travelled through what you call subspace. It was from the white knight that I was stolen, by the black knight we fought and slew together.**_

_So you grew in power with each fight and each pure warrior you bonded with, eventually meeting me. _Wes mused, _I bet you and the knight came through some sort of naturally occurring time-hole, which is how you met me and my friends... and then I called on you against Ransik in a fit of rage. My god! _Wes grimaced as he remembered the moment two years prior; the final battle he and his friends fought against their enemy in Silver Hills. _I am so sorry!_

_**Don't worry – purity of heart does not mean that you cannot feel anger, Wes, or envy or sadness; it only means that you do what's right in spite of those emotions, **_**not**_** what is easy, and you have done that flawlessly in recent years. You may have summoned me in fury in that last battle alongside your friends, but it was righteous, selfless fury. You used it as fuel to fight for your friends, all of who were out of the fight by then – it was not the dark rage that the mutant Ransik exuded at the time, and it was nothing like that of the demons and 'Mut-Orgs' we helped destroy.**_

_I understand._ Wes smiled faintly as he sat on the bed he'd claimed in his guest room, _I still feel bad, though – I've been treating you like just another weapon this whole time; never calling on you for anything less than the strongest threats!_

_**You've had no reason to treat me any other way before now, Wes, and it doesn't matter to me if you continue that after today; our bond is what keeps us strong, whether we communicate or not.**_

Wes smiled stiffly.

_**As you recall, when the black knight captured me, he had a dragon – the one you destroyed shortly before calling on me. That dragon's flames, though the same element as my own power, were evil. Those flames bombarded me and my home frequently for years, forcing me to withdraw into myself or risk destruction. When you found me, I could only briefly assume your predecessor's form to explain the powers I would grant you; my own power was **_**that **_**weak from having been self-contained for so long.**_

_Yet you still gave me armor that first day, and the three times between then and now that I called on you._ Wes blinked, confused. _That had to nearly exhaust you._

_**That is my purpose, Wes; to give heroes extra power, no matter the cost to myself. I gave King Arthur the power to channel fire through his blade, Excalibur; Draganta was gifted the Battle Fury, armor similar to yours, and the white knight I was stolen from was gifted with enhanced strength through his own armor before he was killed. Besides Arthur, though, none of them bonded with me this long and thus never gained this connection... I believe the only other I could bond with like this is Harry Potter.**_

_As in Hermione's friend, Harry? Why?_ Wes' face screwed up in confusion.

_**Because despite his upbringing he's as pure-hearted as you, Wes, and he is the Chosen; Harry Potter is a key person in magic and in time; an ordinary human with an extraordinary destiny, who will, using power evil knows not, deliver the British Wizarding World from the very evil they created, and thus save the world. It won't be easy, however – you and your family must first get both your niece and Harry out from under the thumb of Albus Dumbledore, to the point that he can only act towards them as any Headmaster could. Once that is done, you can all fight the dark on **_**your**_** terms.**_

_So Dumbledore _is_ playing around with things, huh? _Wes mused, sitting back and waiting for the impending lecture, _I know he's scum – Dad said as much – but is getting Harry away from him really so important?_

_**In being forged from the fires of a phoenix, I have gained several similar abilities – the most notable being temporal omniscience. In one timeline, we never had this conversation; I never came back to England, and thus Harry Potter never learned about me. Your brother, Eric Myers, had his memories and Miranda's modified by Dumbledore before this trip was even planned, and again by your niece years later. No one besides them could repair either incident; the adult Grangers were eventually sent to Australia under assumed names. The Quantum Powers were lost; you, your father and your niece eventually killed in combat, leaving Harry – who stood against Tom Riddle, known as Voldemort, with none of your daughter's tremendous support, a painful betrayal from one Ronald Bilius Weasley, and little real training. He fought Voldemort alone for almost fifty years. The resulting Blood War destroyed **_**everything**_**, and a rogue sentient computer virus took care of the rest, leaving the Earth utterly dead. In that timeline as with so many similar ones, I burned myself out. Similar timelines had other problems; Harry dying at Voldemort's hand almost two years from now, the Grangers being tortured for **_**decades **_**before being allowed to die... but they all had one common factor; they all began because of Albus Dumbledore and his manipulations.**_

_That's terrible! _Wes gaped. _Do you think helping Harry will lead to a better future then that?_

_**I know it will; in this specific case, several possible futures have already been eliminated from contention including the ones I described. But we must find Harry Potter at once, in order to eliminate **_**all **_**of the worst possible futures.**_

_Besides that, why find him? _

_**If I am not bonded to Harry soon, then the best possible future is lost to us!**_

_The power of King Arthur and Draganta combined with the youth of Harry Potter? _Wes grinned wryly.

_**Yes. Not that you're a bad host – far from it, Wes, **_the Fire replied, _**this bond with you feels like coming home. But you're not an active fighter at present, while Harry and Hermione are starting active training to fight the darkness. The bond to Harry will be a truly symbiotic relationship – for while our bond will still remain, Wes; while you can still call upon me for whatever battle you see fit, Harry Potter will soon be able to do the same. Furthermore, you two share the same affinity for the color Red; therefore, for the first time in history, there will be **_**two**_** Red Battle Warriors, and you will both combat the darkness.**_

_I'd do it anyway,_ Wes replied. _We both would, and so would the Grangers. Because all it takes for evil to truly win is for good people to do nothing – and that's not my way, nor Eric's or Hermione's. We _have_ to do something._

_**Then let us return to the strategy session, plan for Harry's escape; as long as the transfer occurs before his return to Hogwarts this year, then he will save the world.**_

"Let's do it," Wes murmured, exiting the room._ By the way – what do I call you?_

_**Suzaku – or Suzy, if you prefer.**_

_The Japanese name for the Vermilion Bird, their representation of Fire..._ Wes' lips twitched as he recalled the info from his mind. _It suits you, Suzy._

_**If you're done singing my praises, Collins, we've got work to do. Find Harry; explain my role to him, and initiate the transfer... the fun begins afterwards. **_Suzy retorted wryly, her physical form (the Battle Fire itself) shining in Wes' hand before vanishing back to subspace.

_Fun, huh? _Wes grinned.

Indeed, putting one over on Albus Dumbledore would be _great_ fun.

* * *

A/N: Many apologies for the delay; Real Life kicked my butt something fierce. Hope the quality and length of the chapter make up for it. Review!

(1) Billingsley Prep School: It's mentioned in PR canon that Wes and Eric went to prep school together. In another writer's take on the matter, the school was given the above name.

(2) Draganta was the true name of a lead character in Saban's short-lived series _Mystic Knights of Tir Na Nog_. This, like Power Rangers, will only be referred to – but unlike with Power Rangers, this will be the only reference to _Mystic Knights_.


	3. Unity, Memoria, Escape, Full Fury

A/N: Thanks for the reviews and bookmarks; at present, reviews have almost doubled from the first chapter, while this fic has gained eight more C2 entries. And it's only been a couple months. Anyway, I apologize for the delay – real life kicked me something fierce, _again_. Replies have been sent to as many reviewers as possible, criticisms discussed and noted... with that, on with the show.

See the last two chapters for relevant disclaimers – accounting for those and the Batman Beyond reference in this chapter, anything you don't recognize after that is probably _still_ not mine. To the few fans of Power Rangers Time Force who are reading this, I'm taking a few creative liberties here – to the readers in general, bear with me regarding the use of the last two books; they're the only way I have to reference the 'base timeline.'

There are story recommendations at the bottom of the chapter – if this fic interests you no longer, check out the recommendations; they're actually quite good.

Caution: Since several reviewers brought this (until now) absent warning up, let me say that there is Dumbledore and Ron/Molly bashing ahead... and behind, in this case. If you should go forward, watch for falling rocks and hammers. You have been warned; note it, for I'm only saying this once.

* * *

_**Fate's Surprise, Friendship's Sunrise**_

_**By**_

_**Titanium Gold**_

_**Chapter 2: Unity, Memoria, Escape, Full Fury**_

"_We work to better ourselves, and the rest of humanity.__" – Capt. Jean-Luc Picard, "Star Trek: First Contact"_

"_Everybody needs his memories. They keep the wolf of insignificance from the door.__" – Saul Bellow_

"_There's too many, Wes! We have to get outta this place!" – Daniel Southworth (portraying Eric Myers)_

"_I've failed over and over and over again in my life,__ a__nd that is why I succeed." – Michael Jordan_

_

* * *

_

_(Granger Residence, Crawley, front porch, 1530 hours, August 7__th__ 2003)_

"Where'd you go, Wes?" Alexander asked; smiling stiffly as his son sagged into a chair next to him. Eric had an eyebrow raised at Wes, while Miranda looked at her surrogate brother-in-law with curiosity in her eyes.

"Just to the guest room... but you wouldn't believe what I found out," Wes smiled broadly, albeit tiredly. "It has to do with this."

Wes then placed his clenched fist on the table and opened his hand, revealing the Battle Fire. Reactions around the table varied; Miranda gasped in surprise, Alexander smiled faintly, and Eric gaped at his best friend/surrogate brother.

"You haven't summoned that magic in a year!"

"What is that, Wes?" Miranda asked, beating Alexander to the question that sat in the room after Eric's outburst.

"This is the Battle Fire. As Eric so eloquently pointed out," Wes grinned, placing the glowing sphere on the table, where it – surprisingly – laid completely still, seeming to preen under the attention, "it's a magical armor source that I found shortly before the end of the kids' first year, when Time Force was almost finished with their business in 2001; I claimed it from an evil knight that had come to 2001 and was attacking my friends. At the time it was only a supplement to my Ranger armor."

"Supplement, he says; lucky that you found it while I was out here, Wes!" Eric complained good-naturedly. "It's so much more than a supplement – when the Battle Fire is used, it augments Wes' strength beyond anything Time Force could accomplish, gives him extra armor and a damn heavy saber easily half his height!"

"As interesting as this is, what's the Battle Fire got to do with what you found out?" Alexander rumbled. Wes explained how the A.I. within the Fire had told him of her history, how he and the A.I. had dubbed herself Suzy, mentioned the many possible timelines that could have occurred without the Collins men coming to Crawley, and then dropped the ultimate bombshell of the story.

"Hermione's friend, Harry, is apparently a key person in time – someone who will save not just the magical world, but the Earth as a whole, from Voldemort and his forces. Suzy offered to bond with him and assist in that mission; it doesn't mean we can't help in the fight, but odds are that it'll come down to Harry and Voldemort in the end no matter what we do," Wes finished.

"That makes Hermione a key person as well..." Eric trailed off, grimacing. "We knew she was special; training in martial arts from four years old isn't easy even if you _are_ a prodigy, and she is. But this..."

"Since we both know stopping her from helping Harry is like a human trying to stop a nuke bare-handed...is there anything we can do to help them both?" Miranda asked as Eric exhaled sharply.

"Can Time Force or Bio-Lab weapons, technology, _anything_ we have access to, affect Voldemort?" Eric added. "If Hermione's going to help Harry fight, now or ever, then Miranda and I won't be sitting on the sidelines, Wes."

"Hey, Dad and I won't either – and as to your question, Eric, Time Force weapons can affect him and his minions for certain," Wes smiled wryly and explained the reasoning to Miranda and Alexander.

"We may not have faced Voldemort or his minions personally, but when Time Force showed up in 2001 one of our enemies for a short time near the end was a rogue demon named Quargenon; a powerful creature of dark magic that was left over from a faction that attacked Silver Hills in 2000. Quargenon also brought five 'Shadow Warriors' with him; if you'll recall, Eric, given that you _were_ there, Time Force's tech stood up to them with no problem. Considering this Voldemort sounds almost on the same level as Quargenon, the weapons and technology you and I have should have no problems against him if he attacks us himself."

"Which likely means that unless Dr. Zaskin's done any better with decoding our transformation tools since I left," Eric added. "Bio-Lab's energy blasters won't do a thing; Quargenon wasn't even affected by them. The Shadow Warriors and the demoness that raised them took a beating from the blasters; we even managed to destroy one of the Warriors with the blasters alone. But if Voldemort's anything like Quargenon I doubt the Guardians can do anything to him directly."

"They can't do anything anyway, not in this case," Alexander grimaced. "The Guardians still have the arrangement we set up when you left, Eric – they're protecting Silver Hills alongside the city's police department; to pull them out and bring them all here would leave the city vulnerable and cost far too much. I was merely suggesting we give the kids some protection _not_ tied to their magic, and give Miranda some protection in general. Silver Guardian equipment harnesses and energy blasters would be perfect; while they won't stop Voldemort whether or not he returns to form, they will stop his minions."

"Death Eaters," Miranda grimaced. "I've read the stories in some of Hermione's books; they're a nasty group, just as racist as Hitler and his regime during the WWII era – and like the Jews were to Hitler, the Death Eaters don't seem to consider us nonmagicals worth the fabric of their robes."

"More relevantly, though," Eric smirked, "the Death Nibblers are all weak in terms of magical power – from what I gathered through Hermione's books and information she's told us, the only reason Voldemort nearly won the first war was because _no one_, not even the British magical government, fought back to an effective degree. If I had to guess, I'd say Voldemort and his minions used attack spells, very nasty stuff that could do no end of damage... whereas those few who _did_ fight back just used stunners and child's hexes. Generally speaking, the magicals here just let the bastard run them over – we won't let that happen again. There's too much at risk."

"I can sign off on several sets of blasters and harnesses for the kids, Miranda and I," Alexander replied. "Being CEO of the company that patented those weapons comes with some perks. You'll all need to pack for a trip to Silver Hills, though; I doubt I can get the blasters across the Atlantic without proper permits and training for Miranda and the kids. Doing that would put everything we have at risk."

"We'll run this whole thing by Hermione and Harry, then," Eric smiled, his calloused, work-worn hand gripping Miranda's own. "See if they're all right with a trip to Silver Hills. Wes, you'd better come with us – we can get the bonding between the Fire and Harry dealt with at the same time."

"I'll deal with the equipment, just in case," Alexander smiled. "With Maria Zaskin in charge of the company during my absence, it won't be a problem."

"With Maria Zaskin as Bio-Lab VP, the Board of Directors revamped since you were attacked two years ago, and Michael Zaskin as head of R&D," Eric snarked, "you're practically Bruce Wayne 30 years younger, sir. All you need is a fancy Batsuit." Alexander and Wes rolled their eyes.

"What's that make me, Eric – Terry McGinnis?" Wes retorted wryly.

"Ha ha, Wes," Eric deadpanned. "Let's go talk to Harry and Hermione, all right?"

"Alright, Eric," Wes conceded, "but you and Miranda owe us an explanation about the whole dentistry gig – you two didn't study _that_ at Billingsley."

With that, the younger adults headed into the house, debating wryly, while Alexander pulled out a cell-phone and dialed Bio-Lab. It was time to acquire reinforcements.

* * *

_(Granger Residence, Crawley, living room, 1545 hours, August 7__th__, 2003)_

_Note to self,_ Harry mused. _Future memories suck – though they are helping me see things differently... and appreciate Hermione all the more._

Indeed, the ward of the Dursleys (former ward, if only in his own eyes) was right – for while he and Hermione were sitting comfortably in the living room and Hermione was still asleep, the memory Harry had experienced in his dreams just then had been rather painful, at least until the end.

_(Flashback, Hogwarts, Base Timeline, 'Deathly Hallows') (1)_

"_HARRY! __**HARRY! **__NO!"_

_Hermione's cries, anguish lacing them, broke Harry's heart – for even after all the agony she'd unknowingly put him through over the time of the Horcrux Hunt and Sixth Year, he still loved her. But he had to carry on with his plan. As Voldemort and the Hogwarts staff verbally sparred, as Grawp and the centaurs appeared to continue the fight, Neville and the Sorting Hat were set in flames; as those very flames were broken and Neville slew Nagini with the Sword of Gryffindor...Harry Potter pressed on – for Hermione, always and forever, no matter what. Whether she loved him in return or not didn't matter anymore – nothing did, except Voldemort's destruction now that the evil bastard could be killed._

_When Molly Weasley pushed Hermione aside to battle Bellatrix herself, Harry saw red – both his past and present selves were _livid_ that such disrespect was shown towards his best friend. But before dealing with that little... _problem_... Harry had to destroy Voldemort._

_Five minutes later – five long minutes during which Hermione, Luna and Ginny had taken back the fight against Bellatrix and utterly destroyed her, five long minutes during which the other Death Eaters in the fight had been killed or rounded up like so much cattle, Harry won after giving Voldemort what he presumed was a rousing departure speech, and killing the monster with a blast of magic from the Elder Wand._

_A few hours later, disgusted with the pointless deaths and the Magical World's lack of acceptance for change, Harry and Hermione sat in Harry's old four-poster bed. Happy in each other's arms after seven years of constant struggle against friends and foes alike, they both closed their eyes... and sent a specific command to their magic. _

_However, as Hogwarts of that timeline went up in a surprisingly large explosion, the souls and essences of the Boy-Who-Lived and his closest friend, among a handful of others, went through a rather strange experience. Before moving on, it was as if that group's memories, their very life experiences were copied and sent…somewhere. However, the handful of Hogwarts students never knew where those copied memories went, as they finally moved on and knew true peace._

_After the way their lives had gone, manipulated by _two_ masters – some by even more then that – the Ministry Six had earned that peace; or at least those versions of them had. For they didn't know that variants of themselves in another timeline were receiving their copied memories – an action done by Fate itself – in the hopes that at least one section of the multiverse would survive against the machinations of Albus Dumbledore and Tom Riddle; in the hopes that a small group of people could really make a difference on their own._

_No one, in any timeline, in any universe, would ever know just how much of a difference would stem from that one action._

_(End Flashback)_

"Whatever brought us together, Hermione," Harry murmured, stroking her hair, "I'm grateful for it. Your family's been so amazing...but you're the one who gave me a life again, and I owe you everything for that. Whatever happened in that other timeline, whatever stupid mistakes our 'other selves' made...we won't make them. _I _won't let it happen – that's a promise."

Meanwhile, Hermione was having a dream of her own. Harry's gentle grip on his best friend tightened slightly as he heard her whimper his name...

_(Flashback, Quidditch World Cup Tent, Location Unknown, Base Timeline, 'Deathly Hallows')_

"_He's g-g-gone! Disapparated!" Hermione gasped, her wet hair plastered to her face, which was streaked with tears and rainwater as the witch threw herself into a chair and started crying, part of her mind using the opportunity to sort through her memories. In the last two-and-a-half years she had – ironically, given her status as 'Brightest Witch of the Age' – been very, very stupid. In that time, her indecisiveness over which of her best friends to date had driven them both away from her – though with Ron it hadn't taken much to begin with. _

_After seeing Harry's valiant effort at helping others – including Hermione herself in first year – and his kind nature, she'd gained a crush on him. Indeed, it was a powerful crush, one which Hermione had smothered for the first several years of her life; though it did push her limits somewhat when she helped Harry in Sirius' rescue, and even more so when she was Harry's only support during the Triwizard Tournament. The pang in her heart hurt rather sharply when Harry didn't even think to ask her to the Yule Ball. After fighting at the Department of Mysteries with Harry and the others among the 'Ministry Six', Hermione realized – it wasn't a simple crush; she was in love with her best and closest friend. As she sat in the hospital wing for those three days at the end of Fifth Year, wincing at the pain of her injury from Dolohov, only two thoughts were at the front of her mind. Retribution to the Death Eater if she ever met him again... and a much greater, more important thought; Harry's safety – was he all right?_

_Unfortunately, she never got the chance to ask him for an honest answer to that question – and with no contact over the summer while she was healing (not even a message of concern, damnit!) she figured Harry wasn't interested in her in any case. With that decided and having heard the Prophecy at the start of Sixth Year from Harry himself, she decided to pursue Ron...which was a logical choice under the circumstances, though a foolhardy error – given he wasn't interested in her at all, as a friend or otherwise, and her efforts resulted in her almost completely shunning Harry. The next and final major point in her eyes, over a year later in her memories, was the argument the trio just had – whether Ron should stay with Harry and Hermione during the Horcrux Hunt or return to the other Weasleys._

_It was as Harry placed several blankets over her as she cried that Hermione realized she had come full circle. She had entered the magical world alone and friendless, and she would leave it alone and friendless, despite her best efforts to the contrary. For she had betrayed Harry Potter, the man she loved, her best friend, all to keep her own heart safe. She had been as selfish as she'd been selfless, and the resulting solitude was her payment._

_She would help Harry finish Voldemort, as she promised... and then vanish into obscurity, alone and unloved, as she deserved after all her mistakes. It was then, however, that she heard Harry's speech in the real world; whimpering his name, Hermione realized in that moment that she was in a dreamscape, and squeezed her eyes shut tightly..._

_(End Flashback)_

...only to wake up, in Harry's arms.

"Hermione, are you all right?" Harry asked; Hermione herself blushed as she felt Harry's breath on her ear.

"I'm fine," she sniffed.

"You don't sound fine, Hermione, or look it – what happened?" Harry murmured.

"That dream...it was another memory from the future," Hermione replied, "We were hunting for pieces of Voldemort's soul that he had placed inside objects....Horcruxes, I think they're called. Ron had just left, and I was crying fit to put a hosepipe to shame...because everything I'd done over the last two years in that timeline drove you away."

"Drove me away?" Harry gaped. "Why? Unless you turned into a total shrew on me in that other timeline...oh, no..." Harry groaned as he saw the look on Hermione's face; self-depreciation mixed with cold rage and sadness.

"I did, Harry – or rather, my other self did. Ron and I can't stand each other at the best of times; that factor is constant in both this universe and the base timeline our 'future memories' came from...yet in that timeline I gave you up to try and be a better friend to him," Hermione gulped, exhaling a ragged sob, "I was so stupid...!"

"No, _she_ was," Harry retorted. "The Hermione Jane Granger I've known the last two years – and especially this summer so far – is a beauty and a genius. That other timeline...it was a mess. Our counterparts of that world..._they_ weren't honest then. They were both stupid in that timeline – my counterpart during third and fifth years, and if you really think so... then yours during sixth year. But that was the past, Hermione; in some ways, not even ours. We can learn from it, do things the right way this time."

"Those who don't learn from history are doomed to repeat it," Hermione murmured.

"History is the past, mystery is the future, but a gift is the present – that's why it's called such," Harry smiled faintly as Hermione gave him an unreadable look. "And personally I'd like to think we have a lot of gifts in the present, and a lot to learn from our history."

"We all have a lot of gifts, Harry," Miranda grinned, stepping into the living room. "Most of them are because of you two."

"Us?" Harry blinked, pulling away from Hermione as Eric and 'Uncle Wes' walked into the room, though the pair of teenagers still held hands.

"I can see how Hermione would give you all gifts just by being in your life, but... how do I do that?" Harry was shocked.

"Fishing for compliments, Harry?" Wes teased, only to cringe as Eric smacked him on the head. Harry blushed.

"No, sir- I mean, Wes, I'm not," he murmured. "I honestly don't understand how I bring a gift to your lives; if anything, with Voldemort after me..." Harry suddenly trailed off at the Death Glares™ coming from the Grangers and Wes.

"Voldemort's yearly attacks on you change nothing, Harry," Eric ground out, before pinching the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply and continuing in a calmer tone. "You've been all Hermione's talked about since October 31st, 2001 – the day you saved her from that troll your defense professor for that year let in. Yes, Miranda and I were angry over that situation and others, but we never thought of pulling her from Hogwarts, because we also know you've been good for her; you've brought our daughter out of the shell she'd made for herself, made her smile...all that's worth any trouble she gets into, as long as she doesn't get hurt too badly, or killed."

"The first summer after Hogwarts, Harry, you were all that she could talk about during her martial arts training and tournament preparation," Wes grinned. "I was there; I know!"

"She really...?" Harry squeaked, trailing off and eyeing Hermione with a look that spoke volumes. "Even then, you...?" Hermione nodded, face pinking.

"You're a good kid, Harry; Hermione trusts you, and we trust her judgment – so we trust you by default. Long as you don't make Eric and Miranda here grandparents too soon, that'll probably never change," Wes smiled. "And we've said this probably a thousand times by now; you're not alone anymore. We're here to help you."

Harry smiled and murmured his thanks while rubbing his face with his sleeve.

"Thanks...okay, panic over," he said, throwing a watery smile at the Grangers. "So, what's the plan, and what'd Wes mean by tournament prep?"

* * *

_(Meanwhile, elsewhere in the Granger Residence)_

"_I doubt it can be done, Alex; just creating the blasters set off a few red lights in the UN. More of Dumbledore's work, no doubt – and if you'll recall, we barely managed to overrule that without our own connections. I don't think that under the current circumstances the UN or any one government will give a damn if it's for the safety of the world; Dumbledore's influence is damn near everywhere to varying degrees, and FedEx-ing Bio-Lab weapons across the pond will see us attacked in court by that influence,"_ Maria groaned over the phone. _"That factor aside, this is a sign of a good government – unlike the British magicals, who'll let Dumbledore and their enemies get away with all and sundry, the US and British nonmagical governments are willing to kick butt in spite of that influence when it comes to weapons transport. But in this case it's kicking us in the teeth."_

"Then we'll have to adjust the plan, Maria; we can even help Harry out a little." Alexander smiled. "I'll charter a private flight for the six of us back to Silver Hills, so we can train there. If the British magicals are as backwards and ignorant as Hermione's books make them appear, then they'll never know we left via 'muggle transportation' until it's far too late."

"_Well, you might have some backup in whatever fight you and Wes have walked into this time,"_ Maria chuckled._ "A Mr. Jason Lee Scott called while you were both over the Atlantic, asking for Wes. When Holly and I mentioned that you two were both preparing to assist Eric Myers in a fight, Jason said he and a Dr. Tommy Oliver would gladly help out in whatever that fight is, if you two wish it."_

"I'll let Wes know; thanks, Maria," Alexander's smile broadened into a grin as he and his VP moved onto other matters involving Bio-Lab itself.

* * *

_(Granger Residence, Crawley, 'Trophy Room', 1600 hours, August 7__th__ 2003)_

'_Bloody hell; now I really feel like an idiot.'_ Harry mused, cringing, _'She's my best friend, but I honestly admit I didn't know this about her at all.'_

Hermione had just revealed her status as a martial arts prodigy; as Harry looked over her medals and trophies from tournaments the world over, he had to smile at how natural the information had sounded.

"And you taught her the skills to do this?" Harry asked Eric and Wes; the three were currently standing in Hermione's section of what Eric had dubbed the 'Trophy Room', a room holding all the trinkets symbolizing the accomplishments of the people tied to the Granger clan. While Hermione talked with Miranda, Harry was eyeing a photo of Hermione and Eric six years younger, the brown-haired fighter wearing a martial arts gi with a red belt, while Eric wore a more battle-worn gi with a black belt. Hermione's hair, bushy even then, was tied back in a tousled ponytail in the photo.

"I only taught Hermione the basics," Eric smiled, noticing which photo Harry was examining. "At least, of my own free will. Later, when she started seeking me out for lessons and soaking up the theory behind the sport like a sponge, I had no choice but to teach her all I know – as you know, Harry, refusing Hermione..."

"Is a move you make at your peril, because she's as smart as she is strong," Harry finished, biting back a laugh.

"When I visited, I taught Hermione what I knew as well – but Eric's leagues ahead of me in fighting skill and always has been, so it wasn't long before I was learning from both of them," Wes admitted. "And last summer, it got to the point where she taught both of us."

"She's _that_ good now?" Harry gaped. At the nods from the older men, Harry smiled.

"Voldemort won't know what hit him, then – a prodigy in the nonmagical world as much as in the magical one... and she's my best friend." Turning to Eric, Harry added. "Forgive my French, sir, but you have one hell of a daughter."

"We agree on that much, Harry," Eric grinned.

"Guys – dad wants us in the kitchen; he's got bad news!" Harry turned to Wes, who was now standing at the door to the 'Trophy Room'. Upon noticing the hardened expression on the blonde man's face, the Boy-Who-Lived fought back a grimace.

The crap was clearly hitting the fan.

* * *

_(Granger Residence, Kitchen, 1615 hours, August 7__th__ 2003)_

"You've got to be kidding." Harry groaned. "Tell me you're kidding! He _knows_ I left Privet Drive?"

"I'm not kidding, Harry – and thank goodness that Dumbledore ignores new branches of magic, or we wouldn't even know about this information," Alexander retorted. "He's got a magical tracker on him that was planted by a friend of mine ages ago. Dumbledore probably had one of his agents confirm your absence from Privet Drive by now, though who knows if he's received the information."

"Which means that once he does find out, this is the first location he's going to look," Hermione grimaced. "There's no way we can escape in time once that happens; Dumbledore's got allies, Order of the Fried Chicken or some similar name."

"Order of the Phoenix, I remember you saying – and while we can't escape in time, Hermione, we can _buy_ time," Wes grinned. "Suzy just put up some wards; real strong ones. They'll protect the house and let anyone in that we know and trust, but no one else. When we leave, those wards come with us."

"Wes, you tell that AI of yours that she's a bloody genius," Harry snarked, ducking Hermione's swat and ignoring her obligatory chiding of his language.

"You can tell her yourself, Harry," Wes grinned. "The Battle Fire's decided to bond with you now."

"With... me?" Harry gaped. Looking around, he saw nothing but pride on the faces of the Grangers and the Collins – even Hermione had a broad grin on her face as Harry spluttered.

"There's got to be someone better! Hermione for certain, but... there has to be someone better for that than _me_!"

"There isn't anyone better, Harry – not even Hermione or myself, not for what Suzy wants to help you with." Wes' expression hardened. "The Battle Fire bonds with good people – those individuals with pure hearts and strength. You fit that bill... and one other."

"Harry!" Hermione gasped. "The future memories – remember what happened in that other timeline!?"

"The Prophecy..." Harry grimaced. _Damnit, not again!_

"Suzy did mention something about a prophecy, Harry," Eric replied, "but that's got nothing to do with it."

The Granger patriarch proceeded to explain about Harry and Hermione's key status to the timeline.

"Wes told us what Suzy told him – about other timelines she's been through, thanks to sharing some abilities with a phoenix...they weren't pretty," Miranda added with a grimace.

"In several of those timelines," Wes continued, "the Granger family – all of them on both sides – die in combat against Voldemort's minions, and so do Dad and I; in some timelines, they're taken for torture, only dying after _years_ of it. In a few, Hermione, you modify your parents' memories and send them to Australia or the U.S., resulting in the end of the world on account of your parents losing their memories of their skills. Apparently there's some sort of fight in the future where Eric's leadership and strength will win the day, even when all hope seems lost."

Hermione paled, and renewed her silent vow _never_ to do such a thing in the current timeline as her father looked down at his wrist.

"What about the timeline that these future memories came from?" Harry asked. "Did Suzy see that one?"

"That was one of the worst," Wes grimaced. "Voldemort was destroyed, yes – but nothing changed afterwards, not for magical Britain. That timeline was full of problems – for one thing, the magical government was still corrupt and bigoted, even until the end. For another, the Battle Fire remained bonded to me for the rest of my life – something that was not supposed to happen – and when I died she tried to find Eric...but he had changed. He wasn't the fighter he is now – his memories had been altered, and his name changed. He couldn't even _see_ Suzy in that timeline, Eric was so different – and eventually she burned out, finding no other truly pure-hearted souls...but not before seeing the end of the world at the hands of Voldemort, a sentient computer virus, and some kind of massive explosion that occurred a year before the virus came to a shred of power."

"So you're saying..." Hermione gulped, catching her breath. "You're saying that if we do nothing, the world ends?"

"That's exactly what Wes is saying," Eric sighed. "Damnit all... the never-ending battle continues, eh Wes?"

"It does," Wes smiled stiffly. Harry, meanwhile, gripped Hermione's hand with surprising ferocity, as she did to his.

"If I do nothing against Voldemort, the end will just come faster – and without Hermione's help, the end might _still_ come..." Harry murmured. "I won't let that happen."

"And neither will I – but look out, Mum and Dad," Hermione snarked. "Harry's 'saving-people thing' is coming to the front lines again. Not that that's bad, mind you." She hastily added as Harry threw a wry grin her way.

"Seriously, Hermione, your family's shown me the love I'd like to think my parents would have shown me if not for Voldemort…. I won't let that, or any of you, be destroyed without a fight. What do we need to do?" Harry asked.

As plans were made (and a limo chartered to Heathrow by Alexander) Harry smiled.

A new chapter was about to begin in his life – one that from the sounds of things would be a lot better than anything the Dursleys or Dumbledore could do for him.

* * *

_(Hogwarts, Headmaster's Office, August 8__th__ 2003, 0700 hours)_

Fawkes, the Phoenix 'familiar' to one Albus 'too-many-middle-names' Dumbledore (who was currently on vacation, not that Fawkes had ever officially bonded with the man) trilled in contentment as the devices tracking the life energy of one Harry James Potter froze momentarily. The devices in question, having been originally set up as a mobile measuring device of some sort for the Hogwarts wards, seemed to shake off a black mist before resuming their original function – not that Dumbledore would know until it was too late.

_The Chosen is free from the Old Man's manipulations at last, _Fawkes mused. _And Suzaku has returned to the land of her birth…. It would seem that the prophecies the Goblins and Merlin made so long ago are finally coming to fruition. All is not lost yet. The worst of the timelines for the Earth is slowly being avoided...at least for now. Suzy, old friend, it's up to you now – and I truly hope you turn the tide of the battle between light and dark. I will join you when I am able – for the Chosen will need all the help he can get._

Suddenly, Fawkes heard a scream in his mind's eye – and vanished in a burst of flame. He would never return to Dumbledore's office or answer his call again.

* * *

AN: (1) Some of the descriptions in this section are paraphrased from other sources; Seel'vor's one-shot "Open Wide the Gates of Time" (ID 4780695, Chapter 3), and ehc17's one-shot "Harry Potter and the AUDH" (ID 5508976). If this story no longer interests you, have a look at their works – and thanks for reading.


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